


New Opportunities

by MorriganFearn



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Sword of Seals
Genre: Blindness, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1457860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorriganFearn/pseuds/MorriganFearn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They haven't really had time to talk alone, therefore it is only natural that the first chance they have is in the middle of the woods while Elphin is blind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Opportunities

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Emblanon prompt for Percival/Elphin blind sex. It was really interesting pulling in other sensory descriptions for what's happening. Hopefully it's not too confusing.

He heard the crunch of leaves long before the blowing breath and snorting told him that it was a horse, most likely ridden much too far for its comfort. Clankings and jinglings told Elphin that either the horse was in full tack, or, more likely, the rider was still in plate armor. But nothing could tell him which side the horse belonged to. Admittedly, at this point problems would arise, no matter the side this cavalier cleaved to, but Elphin's life would be much easier if this cavalier was Lycian.

He must be visible to the rider by now, and there was no shouting, so Elphin could only assume that Saint Elimine had indeed taken him seriously and sent help in the form of a Lycian. Maybe it was that calm Sir Noah, or if Elphin was truly lucky, Sir Zealot. Any of the mercenaries would be fine. They did not ask awkward questions. The training knights from General Roy's lands would be acceptable, but they were terribly young, and prone to gossip, which would make the problems appear as soon as they reached camp. Just don't let it be Marcus. His age made him perceptive, and worse, he would know who to go to as soon as he got Elphin back.

“Bard Elphin?”

Or the biggest problem could be walking right up to Elphin on his great horse. Of course, General Percival would be the one to notice that Elphin was no longer with the army, and of course he would get it into his head to play the part of a terrier. Ah well. As long as Elphin let nothing slip—and he had learned early on how to keep even Lalum from guessing too much—there still might be some salvaging of the situation.

Elphin rose, and turned his head in the direction of Percival's voice. “General Percival. I was just admiring the view. Have you come to retrieve me?”

“I have, indeed,” leather creaked and slid against cloth of some sort, just before a loud whumph echoed from General Percival's location. Obviously he had dismounted. Elphin could picture the stern worry that Percival would wear like a mask as he approached, trying to indicate with every movement that battlefields were dangerous and Elphin could have been seriously hurt, and if only he had stayed at a discrete distance this all could have been avoided. “What happened? We made camp at the lake before anyone noticed you weren't with us.”

Elphin smiled. Well, at least his keepers had sensibly concentrated on their own affairs before going into a tizzy looking for him. “I trust I haven't been too much bother. I got lost in the trees during the ambush, and then I played hide and seek with one of the bandits. By the time he lost my trail, I had lost the army. With night time coming on, I've been debating whether I should attempt to track my way back in the dark, or make camp here.”

Well, the last part was a lie. He had been intending to wait on the very nice log he had found until things returned to normal. Unfortunately, Percival had arrived first.

Elphin listened as Percival walked forward, paused for a moment, and then moved around something. Maybe another log? The valley was home to a village with plenty of carpenters and loggers. Elphin could have found an old felling ground.

Percival stopped near enough for the dagger check of a hand shake, and cleared his throat. “I wish that spending half a day running around a forest trying to outwit a bandit did not sound like a normal day for you.”

“My good general, I will take running around forests over slippery shale and mine shafts any day you care to name. If anything, being part of an army instead of a resistance force has made my life far more civilized.”

“That's hardly any comfort.”

Elphin wondered if Percival's face had moved from stern to outright frowning, yet. “We have other things to do than be comfortable.”

“Yes. Like admiring the view instead of finding your way back to camp, Elphin,” Percival's voice was awash in admonition.

Elphin wondered if Percival was looking as stern as he sounded, or if his wry smile had taken ahold of him. The knight spent so much time and effort in being the perfect general that when his sense of humor got the better of him, it did so with a vengeance, as though to make up for lost time. If there was rueful laughter in Percival's eyes, he might be content to take Elphin at face value.

Elphin tested the waters, hoping for a human response, rather than the voice of a general. “Well, perhaps I can convince General Roy that we should fit some aesthetic appreciation of landscape into our busy schedule.”

Percival snorted in just the way he always did when he was trying to dismiss laughter.“He would do it, too. Bard's duty or not, you're too convincing by half, M—Elphin.”

The last time that Elphin had seen Percival acting just as Percival and not as the Knight General had been another lifetime ago. Now Elphin could only hear him, and while the bard missed the sight of the reluctant smile, and sweet relaxation, Elphin had never realized how rich Percival sounded when he was trying to keep his composure. Percival's General voice was almost without inflection, and now bottled up exasperation spilled into his words. Perhaps it was merely the effect of finally being without on-lookers that was allowing Percival to unwind.

Percival cleared his throat again. Some memory, perhaps, had been teasing him. “Though, I suppose I can appreciate the sun glancing off the roofs of the village as well as the next man. The orange from the sunset is spectacular today.”

“Yes, it's very charming,” Elphin agreed blithely, glad that he had rightly guessed from the lowering temperature that it was getting on toward evening.

He heard the swishing crunch of leaves grinding against each other. Percival must be turning, perhaps looking away to take in the sunset view once more, before suggesting that they return to camp with no more delay. “So charming that the image stayed in your head well into moonrise, it seems. It must be wonderful to see a village at sunset even when you're facing the rising mountains with the village behind you.”

Elphin froze, and realized that was an apt description because it was cold indeed. He had been assuming that the temperature was due was the shade of the trees and the onset of evening, rather than full night. Still, Percival's trap had been too clever by half. “You lied to me.”

“You were lying to me,” Percival told him matter-of-factly. “Is—I've had several conversations with Douglas about this. It's not—you know how to handle yourself until your sight returns?”

“Yes. And it will return. You don't need to worry about that,” Elphin knew Percival would worry. Nothing could stop him from worrying.

“And the next time this happens, you won't lie to me?”

Breath hissed through Elphin's teeth. He didn't need sight to know the exact expression on Percival's face. It wouldn't be pain in any form, though he knew Percival did not like the implication that Elphin did not trust him with Elphin's weakness. Percival would just be gravely disappointed.

Elphin went for the truth, since lies were not going to carry him any further. “I don't enjoy the way every Etrurian and Islander in camp treats me when I am—in ill health. Anyone in my position would do their utmost to avoid being fussed over. I have a job to see through, and getting everyone worried is not going to help.”

“I have duties, too, Bard Elphin.”

“And it would make them considerably easier if you did not worry about the health of one bard when the fate of the realm is at stake.”

Something creaked, and then Percival made an exasperated noise. “Right. You can't see it when I nod.”

“Ah, so I am to take it that you are in complete agreement with Douglas that I should stay safe and warm in a healer's tent until the war is over?”

“Emphatic agreement. But I like knowing that such a good tactician is at my side, using his sharp mind on my battlefields. The general of Etruria wants you safe and sound. This soldier, however, wants you beside him. It's not pleasant when those desires clash. Either way, I realize that,” Percival paused. Elphin listened to him breathe out. Was he looking at the sky for inspiration? Or studying the ground? Perhaps he had closed his eyes in concentration. “I realize that whatever my feelings on the matter, Bard Elphin has his own duties and cares that are none of my business.”

Elphin knew he shouldn't ask. He shouldn't bring this up, because it was always between them and never going to change. “What about when you're not a General of Etruria, or a soldier? What does Percival, of no lands, without a patronym, allow himself to think when he sees this simple Elphin choosing a life like this, however temporary it must be?”

It was quiet. Somewhere, a night thrush was singing, stabbing in the point that Elphin had been lost in this timeless darkness, and he should have noticed that the world moved on. Abruptly, Percival walked a few feet away. The clack of plate told Elphin that the General sat down, probably on the log Elphin had been using earlier.

“That arrogant fool wishes to join such a simple bard,” Percival's voice having reached a smooth pitch of fond affection strained over 'simple bard' with repressed laughter. “If they joined together, after this war they could head off somewhere, and live happily ever after—isn't that the point of the best songs you sing?”

“But wouldn't you be disappointed in the bard who did not step aside when there was no longer need for him, and take up the serious responsibilities you know he must care about?”

Something clinked and creaked in a shrug. “If there is one thing I know, it is that Elphin has a better grasp on the way the future must go than I do. That future is going to be shaped from the experiences he has had. He's the only one who can know whether it is better for him to be a traveling player working on the road as an advisor to the powers that would try to influence those without power, or if it is better to find a kingdom and sing in one court, as it were.”

“Would you follow me?”

Elphin could hear the smug twist of a smirk in the roll of Percival's voice. “Yes. That arrogant fool is stronger than both the soldier and the general of Etruria. He failed to follow when needed once before. I wouldn't allow it to happen again.”

“Even if,” Elphin wished he had his lyre on hand, but it had taken too much work to put it back in its case to take it out just for the comfort of the wood frame under his fingers, “that arrogant fool would have to follow the simple bard back to the court of Etruria for one last song before the bard had to disappear? How closely do we follow one another in a great court?”

“Ah. That is your decision, then,” Percival sounded a little flat, a little more controlled. The general was coming back, and even though Elphin knew Percival had to be the General because in a month or a year, or two, Etrurians would need a the strong, firmly compassionate mind of this man pulling their army together again, he missed the freedom of the untitled man.

Percival cleared his throat, but it did not erase the slight roughness of old regrets. “I had a conversation very like this once, when I was first elevated to this office, with a man I lived to serve. He was in great danger—we had always known that. His cousin had been nearly assassinated several times, and the position of his cousin was assured, as a recognized heir to a throne with an unbroken blood lineage. In Etruria, as you know, the noble families often exchange the power of the throne, manipulating marriages, the children of those unions, and using death when necessary for advancement.

“We were foolish, then, and neither of us really believed anyone would dare hurt my master, but we had a similar conversation about our duties and our wishes. We concluded that I am his Knight General. Anything else would not be practical in the long run, because I have my duties, and he has his responsibilities. And we both were unsatisfied by the idea of a short run of gratification.”

And yet it had turned out that their status quo was extremely short term indeed. Just that summer Prince Mildain had died. But the status quo might return, if the war went the right way. Or the wrong way. Elphin wondered if Percival's plans for the future left him alternately hoping and dreading in the same way Elphin did.

“Well, I suppose we must get back to camp,” Elphin began reluctantly, only to be stopped by a short laugh.

“Getting my horse to find you in the dark took more daring on her part than she should ever have to go through. I'm not traipsing back through a forest that might break her leg even if there was much moonlight, which there isn't. You get your wish, Bard Elphin. No fussing around camp. At least until tomorrow. Were you carrying any form of bed roll?”

“It was in Merlinus' wagon this morning,” Elphin shook his head.

Crunching, swishing and then a slight breeze—the faintest touch of air—indicated that Percival walked past him. “Sadly, I ran off without checking. You may have my bedroll, Elphin. I'll be fine with my cloak.”

The idea of it shocked Elphin just a bit. He knew he shouldn't be shocked, yet any time anyone suggested sleeping in their cloaks from Echidna to Roy, he felt nothing but consternation. He'd slept in his cloak often enough—usually in damp mine shafts with water dripping onto some part of his body no matter what he did—that he never wished to subject anyone else to it. One aspect of living in a palace that he would never take for granted was the abundance of good beds.

The mysterious jingling ceased to mix with the horsey breathing, and leather creaked again. “What's wrong? You look as though I offered you some kind of rotting fungus.”

“It's freezing. You should share the bedroll with me—if anything I should be the one sleeping in my cloak.”

“Elphin, I can find plenty of leaves to burrow into, and I have trained for such eventualities. No General should live a cushier life than the meanest foot soldier while on campaign.”

That brought a smile to Elphin from some very warm core of happy memories. Percival actually meant every single one of those words. Many of Etruria's promoted knights and generals felt that there should be some perks to the positions that they had attained, and then there was Percival: willing to stand for hours in the pouring rain so he could make sure every man in the army had their own tents up and that they were comfortable.

He even did that in the ragtag Lycian army—they both knew it was not Etrurian despite the official name—that they had thrown themselves into. Only a few days ago Elphin had witnessed the enjoyable sight of the unhappy mercenary from Sacae and Percival flummoxed and jointly defeated by trying to build a firepit in mud. It had taken much patience and lateral thinking from that kind archer Dorothy to convince them to let the mages handle it.

Still, there was a line to be drawn between propriety and punishment. “Even so, I'm not sure how late into the night it is, but one of us is going to have to guide a war horse out of the forest in the morning. I have no intention of letting that person be sleep deprived because they were cold—on top of sleeping on whatever rocks and tree roots a deceptively smooth forest floor might throw at us.”

Elphin heard the breath catch in Percival's throat. “You mean—you won't be able to see even in the morning?”

“I won't know until morning,” Elphin still felt this was a lie. He might get lucky. He never had before when he was this tired, but he might get lucky. The poison would be gone from his system one day—it probably would have been already, if he had bothered to rest for that full year. Still, he shouldn't lead Percival on with false assumptions. “I did run blind through the forest for half a day. That kind of activity generally takes its revenge one way or another. I might be able to see by morning, I might have to wait until the next day. But Percival, she's your horse, in any case, and I don't know where the camp is.”

Those realities made Percival grunt, and then he thrust the heavy sheepskin of the bed roll into Elphin's hands. “I see your point. Please hold that while I clear out all those rocks you mentioned.”

“You'll never get rid of them all. Even if I hadn't taken the same basic training classes as you, I know know far too much about sleeping rough. You'll wake up at dawn with a stone the size of the holy tower lodged in your spine.”

“Better only one of those than thirty, however,” Percival replied. “If you can make your way to my saddle, there are some travel rations in the second bag tied there. I'm afraid it's just those terrible corn buns Saul cooked up for us the other day, but they do eventually break apart if you whack them on a rock for long enough.”

“I'll try them in the morning when we can see to swing a sword at them,” Elphin shuddered. “Between Lalum and Saul how do any of us survive?”

“It does make you regret equal rotation of duties,” Percival agreed with a skittering sound that made Elphin think that he was just kicking a clear space in the forest floor free. “However, it keeps everyone happy, and it is possible to meet new people this way.”

“Beginning to warm to their foreign ways at last, are you, General?” Elphin wished with all of his might that he could see Percival right now. Percival had mentioned that he was uncomfortable with the informality of the supposed Etrurian Army under the Lycian Roy's command, but if he was seeing its merits perhaps his opinions on democracy were not as set in stone as Elphin remembered.

“Perhaps. Dame Miledy and Princess Guinevere told me that the Bern Army has a more structured rotational roster, but apparently even lords and kings will dig latrines with the best of them, so I had better make no more high handed comments.”

Elphin couldn't imagine what Percival had said to either the wyvern rider or her princess. Well, actually, if Percival caught a royal princess digging latrines he might have said much with glare alone. Still, “You can't expect me to believe that you lectured a lady of rank, Percival.”

Silence fell. Percival cleared his throat. “The Princess of Bern was obviously unused to attempting such physical labor. I made a comment to that effect. I gather several other members of our party had made similar comments, and one of them tried to make Gonzales take her place. However, my comment was the last one at the end of a long day. I think even Dame Miledy's wyvern was angry, by that point.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. Ah.”

“Who tried to get Gonzales to do—”

“I'm not sure,” Percival replied. “Echidna and Lilina were yelling at Saul later, however, so I assume he was responsible.”

Elphin sighed. It happened all the time in the real Etrurian Army, which was big, and shamelessly used anyone who was bad at saying “no” to do all dirty work. Still, in a group as small as the Alliance Army, they should be able to protect people like Gonzales better. “Have you spoken to Roy about it?”

“He said Echidna was planning to put in some system so that he couldn't be treated like a mere tool. I think that this army is growing faster than R—General Roy knows how to handle.”

That tone of disapproval. Elphin felt it in every tactical meeting. Having the fifteen year old Roy dictating the moves and terms of the army grated on Percival. “They swore allegiance to him, General. The strength of those words keeps the army together.”

Percival grunted, and soft swishes indicated that he was moving to Elphin again. “Did you swear allegiance?”

“A freeman's bond, yes. Bard Elphin will serve General Roy for the remainder of the war.”

“And my allegiance goes with my King and his house, which has agreed to help Roy,” Percival muttered, so close now that Elphin could have reached out to trace the planes of his face, and discover for himself which of his masks Percival wore right then.

Instead, Percival took the weight of the sheepskin from Elphin's arms. Elphin decided to reel the conversation away from Percival's loyalty to Etruria's royal house. That topic had a tendency to get them both in trouble. “The war will end.”

“It had better. You've promised to sing in my homeland, and the fact that Etruria is denied a clever talent like yours is yet another crime that we must lay at King Zephiel's feet,” yes, tonight Percival had decided that he could just be Percival. Dark as his humor could be, it was welcome.

With a fwump, the bedroll was tossed on the ground. Reaching out a careful toe, Elphin prodded the general direction of the sound, listening for Percival moving out of the way. But as the general walked, it was clear that he was just moving behind Elphin. The bard could almost feel Percival reaching out, about to drag his wrists in the proper direction. But just as certainly, that nebulous feeling of hands at Elphin's sides vanished. Instead, Percival breathed over his shoulder. Elphin could feel the warm air gliding along his ear, and he was so glad that Percival hadn't tried to touch him. In the slightless darkness, even with the noise of Percival's armor to warn Elphin, everything Elphin did not invite was too sudden and alarming.

“Do you need a guide?”

“I'll find the bed roll just fine,” Elphin retorted. “Thank you for not assuming anything.”

“Your expression said almost everything I needed to know on that topic. You're much more—open like this.”

Was he? Elphin couldn't tell if Percival approved or not. His voice held a determined neutrality. “You have opinions on my expressions?”

The warm breath of a sigh tickled his ear again. Percival stood so close. He always had a quiet presence whenever he stepped into any room, but now that Elphin couldn't see the eye-catching reserve, he was surprised at how markedly he could feel it.

“You have been open since I met you, Bard Elphin. My prince had a dignified face that he wore before the court. You bear a similar expression when advising General Roy, and yet even then, you do smile. Echidna knows how to make you laugh. There are many irritations, worries, and small happinesses that appear on your face through out the day. The contrast makes me wonder how you will fare in Etruria when you come to sing for us.”

“That is not an opinion,” Elphin remarked, as he felt the ground cautiously. There, something resisted his boot toe in the springily soft manner of sheepskin. “Have I found it?”

“Yes. And my opinion is unformed, Elphin.”

“Surely not terribly unformed. You are a man of determination and action,” Elphin edged nearer to the bedroll. Satisfied that he knew where it was, he sunk to his knees, feeling the tight fuzz of the sheepskin under his hands, and a welcome surprise of a valuable Missuri cotton blanket. It had been a long time since he had used one of these.

Percival clanked around him again. Elphin listened for the general to make the same leather creaking and light chiming that meant he was sitting down. However, the noise of his footsteps continued past the distance Elphin had guessed it would. The horse snorted and stamped as Percival finally stopped. Distant, comforting murmurings reached Elphin. Then came mysterious leather noises, and the soft whump of something large and heavy dropping to the earth.

“I'm going to tie her to a tree,” Percival called. “There aren't any wild wyverns in the area, but if a patrol flies over, she's not going to like it.”

“I thought Miledy and Ziess only fed their wyverns goats. Didn't they say army wyverns are kept on very strict diets so they don't go after horses?”

“Tell this lady that,” Percival called distantly, amid quiet clopping.

Elphin smiled to himself. Percival always accused him of being able to speak to horses. He had once led both Percival and his own horse off a full hunt without the other members of the court any the wiser. The young nobles had mocked him for chasing after a doe, but Mildain had no regrets for inventing a wild chase that gave him a whole afternoon free with the loyal knight captain of his guard.

“Elphin?” Footfalls crushed leaves, and then more clanging sounded. Percival must be removing his armor. Ready to oblige, Elphin moved to take his boots off as well.

“You were going to tell me your opinion of the effect that the Etrurian court has on people.”

Percival breathed out before speaking again. Elphin could hear him fiddling with something faintly metallic by the occasional taps he heard, but they were so muted that leather was probably involved. The buckles for his breast plate, perhaps?

“My opinion pulls in every which way, Elphin. My prince was not made by nature to shut out the world, and yet his life demanded such distance. I am glad to see that you are not falling into the same trap. But at the same time—if you sing in Etruria, this openness will betray you. I would not see you hurt.”

“I admit to feeling the same way, when I see such a proud young general look surprised at his own laughter when Lalum tells a poor joke,” Elphin murmured.

The noises ceased. Percival's voice, when he collected himself, sounded almost raw. “I do not take your meaning.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed roll, Elphin tried to turn his face in Percival's general direction. He might miss actual eye contact, but this was a close as he could come to it at this point. “Let me paint for you a picture. A young cavalier, bright, intelligent, becomes part of a prince's honor guard. The cavalier was already ambitious, full of love for his kingdom and his people. But he meets his prince, and he decides that for this prince, he will become perfection itself. It's a tale any bard would love to sing. No audience would fail to anticipate the cavalier's rise to high office under his blossoming determination.

“But to sing it, I would have to leave out the way the prince feels when he sees his cavalier's imperfections forcefully smoothed away under the cavalier's ambition. No one wishes to know about the struggle between pride in everything the young general has become and the longing for the time when a prince and a cavalier were able to mock courtiers together, or plan boyish pranks for the amusement of a younger friend. A prince must grow wise and dignified, be political without being partisan. A general must be stern and clear-sighted, he cannot allow his feelings to over power his reason.”

Percival cleared his throat, though it didn't change the tone of his voice. “An excellent picture. Let me finish the song for you. The prince dies, and the new general realizes that reason will serve him far better than sensibility in his failure. Yet, when he finds that he has a second chance, his concern is to make things right, and not as they should have been. He—he cannot allow—cannot feel the way he once did.”

“Men grow up. To exist at eighteen for the rest of our lives would be intolerable. I only worry that he cannot feel at all.”

“I am not—I have been in a very dark place, and I have grown used to it. It does not mean that I do not appreciate the light. I merely cannot bring myself to allow it to overwhelm me, even if it means holding people that I care about at arm's length.”

Yes. Mildain couldn't allow his weaknesses to exist, and Percival couldn't live with his emotions. They made quite a pair.

Rising on bare feet, Elphin walked toward the sound of breathing and shifting leather. The recently exposed earth was cool underfoot, and slightly moist, though he could feel leaves shift in slippery patches, suggesting that Percival had only cleared the barest minimum of forest. He found the log with his shins before he found Percival. When his legs collided with the log, and he cursed, a hand reached out for his, and held it.

“I should have warned you about that—”

“I would have run into it just to prove you wrong,” Elphin corrected, using the hand to guide him until he was standing over Percival. He ran his hand up Percival's arm, over the leather arm guard, reaching the fine wool of his tunic, and then feeling the expanse of one shoulder.

The flat of a blade had kissed this shoulder once to knight him. Percival had looked incredible. Heavy-eyed from his vigil, and in a humble gray penitential tunic, he had still struck a sixteen year old prince as the most glorious sight the young man had ever known. When they shared lessons not a year later the prince could not initially believe that someone as enthralling as the young knight never took advantage of that captivating charm. His methods for gaining his ambitions were alien in the Etrurian court.

Elphin leaned down until he could feel Percival's breath stirring stray curling hairs against his cheek. “I should have found a way to tell you that the assassination wasn't successful. I deceived you for far too long, at too great a cost.”

“Etruria needed all her Generals,” Percival murmured. “I would have abandoned my post had I known. I probably would have led your enemies right to you. You survived, and now there is hope for the kingdom that does not come from Bern.”

Elphin had always suspected that a certain ambivalence existed in his knight towards the total upheaval of the recent civil war and invasion. Percival had seen Bern's treachery first hand, and yet as an admirer of military strength and strategic thinking, he must have been torn. For a moment Elphin wondered if Percival had ever been in King Zephiel's direct presence. Elphin remembered from several state visits that as a prince Zephiel had been almost overwhelming, charismatic in his personality and courageous in character.

The kindness had been hammered out of that ruler by his throne and crown. Their mothers had been sisters. They had been opposites as young men, but would they become the same kind of person eventually? Would Mildain have his flaws exposed and ruthlessly beat from him by the Etrurian court the way a smith destroyed the impurities in steel? And when his flaws were gone, maybe nothing but his own calculation and the cold thoughts that planned the death of men would remain. Nothing that would acknowledge anything more than Percival's loyalty.

But Elphin was not that person, not yet. “I still owe you an apology.”

“I forgave you a heartbeat after I was mad at you,” Percival promised, and strong fingers grabbed the harp calloused right hand of the bard. Percival raised Elphin's hand to touch his lips, and trace the dark grin held there. “Admittedly, given that I nearly speared you through with my lance before I saw who you were, and then you had the temerity to remind me of my duty in the middle of a bloodbath that you should never have entered, I could have strangled you in my fury.”

“I'm glad you didn't. Staying unskewered was hard enough, and I have sparred with you before.”

“You were lucky I was just as stunned as I was furious. And I forgave you. I forgive you. You did what you had to for the realm. I cannot fault that.”

What would Percival have done for the realm? Elphin wondered, his fingers running over the strong jaw that would need shaving. The firm cheeks relaxed, and Percival leaned into his touch. Elphin knew if they didn't stop this soon, neither of them would be able to act with any sense. If only sense did not have to enter, this time. If they could keep it at bay for this first night that they had had to speak alone in well over two years.

“Percival, are you answering me as a General of Etruria tonight?”

We have indulged ourselves before, some traitorous part of him thought. For a while, let us be free of the censorious eyes, and do as we wish.

But that had been when they were young men without responsibility. Well, even then Mildain had been Prince of Etruria, and he should not have slept with one of his guards. He really should have concentrated on making himself agreeable to any of the countless Etrurian noblewomen who would have to be his wife. But there were plenty of excuses for young men. Now they were both adults, and a general and his prince couldn't be lovers.

General Percival could easily love a mysterious bard from the Western Isles, though. No lack of heirs to a realm hung around Elphin's neck like a noose. By the Blessed Saint, he wanted simple, title-less Percival. He wanted that man who looked so devastatingly holy in the great cathedral, and smiled wickedly when an excursion into Aquelia after curfew was suggested.

In his palm, Percival's chin shifted. Elphin was already leaning in, sure of where Percival's lap was, and the knight's hands moving to his waist confirmed that. “No,” Percival breathed. “You're speaking to _me_. Not a custodian of Etruria. Not the office your father bestowed upon me.”

No army, no courtiers, no one watching their every move. Elphin was struck by the fact that even he wasn't watching, as he settled on Percival's strong thighs. The shock of contact when he didn't know exactly when it would come left him breathless. A quick roll of his hips assured him that he wasn't the only one far too excited at this outcome.

Percival's hands roamed Elphin's sides and back, and Elphin cradled that jaw, determined to give Percival a kiss passionate enough to fill the year lost to them. He missed the mark sloppily, taking in bristled cheek and just the edge of a mouth. Percival chuckled, kissing sideways along Elphin's jaw to his ear, but then he stilled and the laughter died. “You really can't see?”

“According to you, it's full dark, so even if I could—”

“There is some moonlight. I can see _you_ ,” Percival's breath hitched, and Elphin knew that he was thinking some very complimentary things, from the way the swell of his cock nudged at Elphin's inner thigh through the riding breeches and bardic robes. “You didn't even want to be touched for guidance. I shouldn't.”

“This isn't— _That_ is cossetting. _This_ is enjoyable. Trust me, Percival,” Elphin tried to kiss Percival once more, finding his nose, and then his mouth. Blessed Saint, that mouth. He separated, his own breathing ringing in his ears. “I am entirely aware of what we are doing. I'm wishing for it.”

“Oh?” Percival still sounded unconvinced, though a hand left Elphin's back and stroked his cheek, thumb lingering by Elphin's lower lip.

“I feel your fingers brush against my cheek. The way you curl your littlest finger under my chin—” Elphin gulped as Percival used his leverage to kiss his pulse lightly, “tingles where it touches my throat. And your thumb on my lips—” said thumb circled so gently, pressing on his mouth, making Elphin long to take it and suck.

He moved his hands from Perival's face, running from the nape of Percival's neck through his smooth hair. Elphin jerked at Percival's low moan. “And I want to hear that as often as I may,” he muttered, arching into Percival as the free hand moved down Elphin's spine once more, tightening cloth against his skin, and teaching him the feeling of textured pressure.

By the time Percival was cupping his ass through fabric, there was no space between them. They kissed, Elphin so pleased at the feel of the sturdy man under his hands, delighted and curious to rediscover everything he thought he had known so well. The steely control in General's arms held Elphin secure, even as they teetered on whatever rock or tree Percival had found to sit upon.

The second time he felt Percival's chest shudder, and his arms shake, Elphin took his hands from Percival's hair and released his mouth with a sigh. “The sleeping roll perhaps?”

Percival's face dipped to Elphin's shoulder, pressing against the cloth unevenly. He must be nodding. Then his voice slipped raggedly over Elphin's skin sliding all over him. “I missed you.”

There was wetness in the hollows of his eyes when Elphin's fingers found them. They rolled and pitched onto the forest floor, coming to rest with Elphin secure on Percival's lap, and Percival holding him up with willing hands. In the confusion Elphin was sure they had missed the sheepskin, but Percival would not let go of Elphin's waist, even to help him with his sash. Well, if he wanted to lie on cool leaves and stones, Elphin could hardly stop him. It was all he could do to follow the grasping arms back to Percival's broad shoulders, and from there find the warmth of his neck, the planes of his chin and the roughness of the chapped lips that Elphin wanted to kiss so much.

He found hints of salt under his tongue, and was surprised by a nose spreading wetness along his cheekbone. They broke apart in rough laughter, young surprised lovers once more. Elphin tried to wipe his own eyes, sure that Aquellia's waterways were suddenly streaming forth. Under him, Percival's breathing shuddered and mingled with the waterlogged chuckling that escaped them both.

“Has it been too long, or are we too wound up from a day of fighting?” Percival asked at last, hard knuckles running along Elphin's jaw with adoring lightness.

“I don't know. I'm so glad that you survived,” Elphin found the hand and kissed the palm.

Even with no one but the trees to hear, Percival whispered. “You were the one who died.”

“But I was safe as soon as it happened.” Mildain had lain awake once the fever broke, listing the names of people who might have disappeared while he was lost in poison. Douglas' coded messages to Lalum said nothing of Percival, or Klein, and only mentioned Celia's name to say that the court wished to ensnare her as another pawn, and not even her father or grandfather could make a move against the ruling families now.

The hand resting on Percival's wool covered chest could feel the uneven rise and fall of the knight's shuddering breath. Maybe if Elphin waited quietly, he would be able to feel Percival's heartbeat, too.

“I'm alive,” Percival agreed softly. “I wished I'd followed you into death, and now that we're together once more, I might have followed you out of that endless night, too.”

The struggle to sit up and the tumble of the next kiss made their mouths sweeter, and hands more deft as coats, tunics and trousers were shed. Percival found a place between Elphin's shoulder blades he liked, teasing Elphin each time he found it with soft touches. Elphin preferred the moans and gasps he wrung forth, fumbling in the dark to find firm living skin.

Best of all, however, was the feeling of slipping together beneath warm sheets, and the cozy sheepskin, with their arms wrapped around each other, and hair tangled in a mess. Elphin found the shell of Percival's ear with sleepy fingers, and with a little effort brushed his lips over the exhausted knight's temple.

“I love you,” it was a secret neither had dared to breathe when they were knight and prince. Now it felt as though the entire forest rang with the knowledge that had consumed them long ago. Here, in this border land, it didn't matter who saw or heard those words, as long as both Percival and Elphin knew them.

They stretched out together, waiting for the coming dawn, and planning on sleeping through it. The war could wait until midday, at the very least.


End file.
